A Tuxedo for Temperance
by Mali Bear's Buddy
Summary: Booth. In a Tuxedo. Every Chapter. A One-Shot Series.  #TuxedoTuesday on Wednesday with the 15th and final installment - The Tuxedo on the Platform. TBC under the same title by ceeray3!
1. A Tuxedo for Temperance

**A/N: **I'm still not sure how this happened because it isn't anywhere close to what I had originally planned but, as my fellow authors can tell you, sometimes stories seem to write themselves. This one is for ceeray3 who has been distracting me with her Twitter icon and ProfeJMarie who has wholeheartedly encouraged the behavior. What am I going to do with the two of you for putting ideas in my head when I should be working on my unfinished chapter fics? *wink*

Here it is: Booth. Tuxedo. Do I really need to say any more?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Bones._

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A Tuxedo for Temperance

He walks up to her door and raps softly on it. He hears her exasperated sigh and the click of her heels on the floor. He takes a deep breath and waits. She's scowling when she opens it but, when her eyes settle on the monkey suit he's wearing, her lips turn up in a crooked smile.

"Angela said you could use a date," he tells her, tugging self-consciously on the sleeves of the starched white shirt beneath the tuxedo jacket. He feels out of place. Like he shouldn't be here, but the artist's words rang in his ears. _She needs you tonight._

Her eyes are sad and she looks tired already. He hates to see her like this. In pain. But this time, unlike that night in the SUV - the night _he _had rejected _her _- he's not the one that's making her feel this way. They've struggled. A lot. Working. Trying to get their partnership, their friendship, back on track. He watches as she fiddles with the small diamond stud she's slipping into her ear.

"I hate these things," she says nervously as he enters her condo. She flits around picking things up. She tilts her head to look at him. "Are you sure you want to...?"

He stops her words when he rests a hand on her bare shoulder. "You'd really let me be all dressed up with no place to go?" he asks. The warmth of her skin taunts him. He remembers the night at the Anuk exhibit. Wonders if he would have kissed her if the squints hadn't interrupted them. Wonders if that would have changed anything between them.

"Booth?" she says, her voice softly calling him back to reality. She holds a necklace out to him. "Would you mind?"

He takes the jewelry and moves to stand behind her. Slipping it around her neck, he fastens the clasp. His breath catches at her scent. _Was that jasmine? _He moves awkwardly away, trying in vain to regain his focus.

She shivers as his hands brush lightly against her neck and shoulders. She closes her eyes and savors the unexpected feel of his touch. Turning around, she grips the edges of his tie and straightens it. His hands inadvertently drop to cup her slim waist. _What was she doing? He'd moved on. They'd both moved on._

Their eyes meet, and he rescues her. Rescues them both from the awkward weight of the moment. He offers his arm. "Whatdoya say, Bones?" he asks with a charming smile. "Let's get outta here..."

* * *

He rarely leaves her side, offering silent comfort and security. The gentle pressure of his hand on her lower back and the crisp scent of his soap reassure her in a way she couldn't explain.

"Can I get you another glass of wine, Bones?" he asks her as she's approached by an older couple.

"That would be lovely, thank you," she answers with a smile.

Crossing the room, he makes the order and waits at the bar. He leans on the counter and watches as she engages in a lively conversation with the pair. He smiles. She may hate mingling, but she's better at it than she thinks.

He watches a younger man approach and steal her away. He sees the tension in her face. Watches as she tries to politely excuse herself. Suddenly, he finds he wishes he had his badge. Or his gun. Or both.

The bartender hands him the flute and he makes his way over to her. He's going to have to improvise. Thinking about Tony and Roxy, he takes a deep breath and hopes that the look in his eyes will convince her to play along.

Touching her arm at the elbow, he presses a kiss to her temple as he hands her the glass. "You okay, baby?" he asks, "You look like you could use some air."

"Booth, this is Wesley Howard. His family is on the board at the publishing house," she tells him. Her eyes meet his and the look in them breaks his heart.

Well, that explained why she hadn't confronted him. He slips his arm around her and sticks out a hand. "Seeley Booth," he says. His handshake is firmer than it needs to be. She might not care to say it, but he was only too happy to say it for her. _Paws off._

"Booth is my partner," she tells Howard.

He squeezes her hip. "Bren here's not good with titles." _There it was. The light bulb. The recognition that this was like their undercover work._

She grins up at him. "I think you still owe me a dance, _Tiger_," she almost purrs.

He leans down and brushes her lips in the softest caress. It's painfully brief. And when he looks at her afterwards, he's sure he sees a flicker of - _what was that? Confusion? Regret? _"If you'll excuse us, Wellsley," he says, his eyes remaining fixed on hers as he leads her away and onto the dance floor.

She giggles and smiles up at him. "You think he bought it?" she asks in a whisper.

Booth looks at her, entranced by the sparkle in her eyes. He realizes that he's fallen in love with her all over again tonight. There was no denying it. He leans close to her ear and murmurs, "He's still watching you."

She stiffens in his arms. He feels his heart beat a little faster as he pulls far enough away to look at her face. He loathes himself for thinking there isn't another way. For knowing that what he's about to do is as much because he wants it as it is helping her.

His presses his lips to hers. Pulling her snugly to his chest, he continues their dance. When the song ends, he notices her eyes are glassy with unshed tears. "Let's go outside," he suggests, his hand brushing from her cheek down to her shoulder in an intimate gesture.

The balcony is chilly. Brennan crosses her arms and she rubs them trying to warm up as she leans against the railing overlooking the bright lights of the city.

He studies her for a moment, chastising himself for crossing the line on the dance floor. He slips off his jacket and wraps it around her shoulders. "Bones, I..." She spins to face him and he watches the tears slide over her cheeks. He reaches out to wipe them away with his thumbs. "Don't cry. Please?" he asks her. "I'm sorry, I..."

She shakes her head. "I'm just tired," she says softly. "Take me home?"

He wraps his arm around her and she leans her head against his shoulder. The gesture is one he's attached to the pain of what happened outside the Hoover building. A pain that is renewed and rips through his chest all over again. But he can't be upset with her and he isn't. You can't choose who you fall in love with. It just happens. And he knows he'll love her until he draws his last breath. It's something he'll have to live with, to cope with, for the rest of his life.

* * *

She's quiet in the SUV. She's quiet when he opens the door for her and helps her step down onto the pavement. No words pass between them as they take the elevator up to her floor. Nothing is said as they pass through her door.

He opens his mouth to say something - to break the silence and attempt to make things between them less awkward - when she walks into her bedroom. He freezes by the sofa. He draws a deep breath. And then another. _He can't lose her again. Not when they've made gains to getting their relationship back. He doesn't know how not to be around her, even when it hurts for her not to be his in every way. What to do, what to do, what to..._

She calls out to him softly, shattering his thoughts and concentration. He's unsure of how to respond. He heads down the hall, stopping to lean against the doorframe. He can't go further. There aren't enough saints to bail him out this time.

With a faint smile, she turns her back to him. "Will you...?" she asks as she holds the bodice of the dress against her chest and gesturing to her zipper.

He gulps. _Not a good idea, Seeley_. "Uh, sure, Bones," he answers, stepping into her room. His hands suddenly feel like oven mitts as he reaches for the tiny pull. He holds his breath at the sound of the tiny metal teeth separating from each other.

He's still as she walks into her closet and steps out of the dress. He knows that he shouldn't look, but he can't help himself as the pale lace of her lingerie is revealed to his sight. She slips out of her bra and he sees her bare back, the side swell of her breasts as she... "Hey, Bones, I'm gonna..."

She comes out in a satin sheath that falls just above her knees and clings to the curves of her body. She takes his hand, her fingers wrapping between and around his. She looks into his eyes. "Stay with me," she says. _It's neither a question nor a command. Rather it's a statement of desire._

He looks at their joined hands and back to her face. "Bones..."

She takes a step toward him. "Give in, Booth," she tells him as she draws even nearer. "Everything happens eventually," she murmurs. "What if this is it?" she asks in a whisper. Her lips are almost on his. They're a breath away. "What if _this_ is our moment?"

He leans the last millimeter necessary to close the gap. To slant his lips firmly over hers. To take one more gamble on her. And he's rewarded by the way she responds. By the way her lips tease against his.

Her heart full to bursting with unfamiliar feelings, she shyly touches his face. Dropping her hands, she pushes the suit coat from his broad shoulders and lets it drop to the floor. Pulling away from his mouth, she plucks at his bow tie and slowly pulls it undone, dragging the strip of material from around his neck. She discards it on the floor.

When she reaches for his buttons, he stops her. "Nothing has to happen tonight, Bones," he says, wrapping his hands around hers. He tries to gage her reaction, the only light in the room coming from the closet and the hallway.

"But something already has, Booth," she answers. She tugs her hands free and begins slipping the studs from their confines.

In response, he chooses to tilt her lips back up to his. His hands tangle in her perfect up-do. She whimpers against his mouth at the sensation of nimble fingers removing the pins.

The shirt hits the floor. It joins the jacket, tie and hairpins. Her hands gingerly caress his chest the way she's wanted to touch him the few occasions she's set eyes on his bare skin. She takes his hand in hers and leads him over to the bed.

Pulling back the covers, she slips between the Egyptian cotton sheets. She watches as he strips down to his boxers and puts a knee on the bed. She welcomes him. Perhaps, more appropriately, he welcomes her. Because for the first time in a long time - perhaps since before she ended up in foster care - she truly feels home.


	2. Tuxedo in the Dream

**A/N:** A very Happy Birthday to ceeray3! Hope it's a good one.

For the record, this is only the second time I have written a one-shot that I have even remotely considered extending into a story or series. With that said, I've been looking for something to replace _Little Moments_ since I ended it in December and I think I've decided this one is it...

Each of these will be stand alone one-shots. I can't say whether there will be 5 or 45 or how often I'll be updating them...but I think I can promise that we'll have fun while it lasts.

Finally, I welcome ideas from anyone who can come up with an excuse for me to put Booth in a tux. The more we can come up with, the longer this one will last. Something you'd like to see? Drop me a line or find me on Twitter.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Bones._

The Tuxedo in the Dream

Special Agent Seeley Booth was dressed to the nines. In a well tailored Armani tuxedo, he looked and felt like James Bond. His body tingled as he remembered the feel of his partner's hands as they fondled and straightened his tie. Remembered the way he had pulled her into his arms and threatened to make them late for the damned museum fundraiser if she didn't stop tempting him with her delicate fingers.

He approaches her now. Sees her smiling at him in her purple off the shoulder gown. "Come on, Bones," he says to her, his lips turning up in a smile. "You owe me a dance." Taking her hand, he guides her to the floor.

She steps into the warmth of his embrace. Her eyes shining with love as they begin to sway. Her soft laughter is all it takes for him to lean down, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that's perfectly appropriate for public, but leaves them both longing for private. He dips her in dramatic fashion and he feels a slight blush stain his cheeks when the squints cheer loudly from the sidelines.

The earth moves beneath them. At first, he's sure it's the thundering of his heart. That he's moved by his feelings. By how they are together, how they always have been. But then it happens. The shift that sends people running. He holds her close. Breathes in the scent of her hair. Cradles her longing to protect her from the chaos that goes on around them. He hears an explosion. A scream. Survival instincts and training kick in.

He walks her over to Hodgins and Angela. "Get her out of her," he tells their friends.

"No, Booth," she frowns in confusion. Her eyes search his and she refuses to let go of him. "I won't leave you."

He holds both of her hands in his. "I need to know that you're safe. Please, Bones?" he begs, imploring with his eyes that she do what he asks. "Get out of here."

"Not without you," she stiffens as Angela attempts to make her leave.

"Baby, I love you," he says to her. He gives her a fierce kiss and clings to her, briefly unable to release her. Pulling away from her their eyes meet and he tells her, "Go to my place. I'll be there soon."

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She paces the floor, her heels threatening to wear through the carpet at her incessant shuffling. She wrings her hands. It's been two and a half hours.

She checks her phone again for the third time in as many minutes. _Nothing. No word._ She dials his number. _Voicemail. Again._

She hears the key turning in the lock and rushes toward the door. He looks haggard. His soulful eyes lack their usual warmth. She kisses his face. Her hands mould to his body, tracing over the starched lines of the suit. They feel...sticky.

Looking down, she realizes that her hands are covered in blood. That Booth is covered in blood. Her heart begins thundering. "Are you all right? Booth?"

He says nothing. He doesn't move or make eye contact. He appears to be in a state of shock.

She pulls him to the bathroom and begins running hot water into the tub. She holds in the panicked tears that threaten to spill from beneath her lids as she goes to work.

None too gently, she tugs at his tie. Removing it, she casts it away. She doesn't stop to watch as it flutters like ribbon to down to the tile.

The jacket is next. The heavy weight of it pools on the bath mat in a discarded heap.

His shirt is soaked with blood. Her eyes and fingers rove over him, seeking entry and exit wounds. Quick fingers tug the shirt free and release the buttons from their confines. She pulls the cufflinks loose with precious little regard for the set, as she rids him of the garment.

Dropping to her knees, she removes his shoes, carefully tugging the laces free of the high-end Italian leather. The garish striped socks he insisted upon wearing with his tux are next. She drags them from his feet and puts them aside.

Removing his pants and boxers, she looks up at him. Normally, taking in his naked body - the perfect structure of bone covered in taut muscle - would send a shock of warmth straight to her core. But this isn't arousing. She can't determine where the blood has come from. Some of it is dry. Some of it appears fresh.

She isn't a scientist. She isn't a world renowned forensic anthropologist or best selling author. At this moment - right here, right now - she is a woman in love. She's a woman struggling to take care of the man that she loves.

"Booth," she says, looking into his eyes. "Booth, I need for you to get into the tub. Can you do that for me?"

The FBI agent moves as though on auto-pilot and slides against the back of the clawfoot tub. The water turns pink as the blood begins to wash away. Booth still says nothing.

She kicks out of her heels and sits on the edge of the tub. With a washrag, she smoothes down his firm abdominal muscles and over his arms. The color of the water only seems to become more red.

She sucks in air. It feels as though she is making very little progress. She moves the rug upwards in gentle circles over his pectorals. Her heart begins to pound. There is more blood now than there was when she undressed him. "Booth," she panics as her heart pounds against her ribcage.

It seeps through her fingers like it did at the Checker Box. It oozes thickly from that spot. His eyes are hollow. He appears to be going into shock. "Booth! Hang on Booth!"

"Bones," he croaks.

_Will this be the last time she hears her name from his lips?_ "Don't leave me. Please, Don't..."

"Bones?" she feels the gentle pressure of his hand on her cheek. Feels him brushing away the hot tears that have consumed her. His voice is deep and husky with sleep. It calls her back to reality. "Baby, you're having a nightmare."

She turns in his embrace. She feels his heart beating strongly in his bare chest beneath her hand. Her fingers slip upward over the puckered skin of the scar, as she takes his mouth. It's hungry and tinged with fear of loss.

"Hey," he says, his hand cupping her cheek. He kisses her temple. "It's okay."

She nuzzles the stubble on his cheek. The scratching makes her feel alive. It matches her primal need to be with him. To show him her feelings. "I love you," she murmurs.

She doesn't say the words often, but when she does he knows they're real. She nips at his lips and he senses her needs. He wants to fulfill them, to make her whole. He knows he'd give her everything - including his last breath. "Show me..." he answers as his hands stroke up the soft skin of her back bared by the spaghetti straps of her nightgown.

She presses her lips over the scar on his chest. The place where he took a bullet to save her life. The place that almost stole him from her before she had a chance to recognize her feelings. "If you're not too sleepy..." she whispers as her fingers ghost over his heated skin.

He strokes down her thighs to the hemline of her satin sheath and tugs it up. Their bodies pressed naked flesh to naked flesh, he kisses her shoulder. His body twitches beneath hers and he smirks. "Even if I was, you'd have no trouble waking me up..."

He follows her lead. Allows her to take him on a journey of gentle exploration. There's a tenderness in her tonight. It's new and he revels in it. He enjoys the way she makes him feel. The way he feels every time he's with her. The way he knows he'll always feel.

She traces all the little scars that mar him. Her lips and fingers brushing over the ones that ares there because of her. That she spends extra time on all the marks he received protecting her isn't lost on him. Instead, it serves as a sweet reminder of how they almost didn't get _here_. Of how sacred _here_ is quickly becoming.

They lay together, spent and slick with sweat, in the afterglow. Her head rests over his heart and his fingers entwine with hers as he brings her hand to his lips. He hates when she has nightmares, but he loves that he's finally able to comfort her the way he's always wanted to. More than that, he loves the fact that she no longer loves him only in his dreams.


	3. Tuxedo on the Highway

**A/N: **So, as I sat thinking about all of the wonderful suggestions you all sent me in reviews, there were a couple that really stood out. I am keeping a running list of ideas going and the more ways I can find to put Booth in a tux, the longer this one will go on.

This week's pick was inspired by a comment from auntof3. While this is likely not what she had in mind, it's where my muse took it.

Special thanks to ProfeJMarie for giving it a last minute read-through.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Bones_

The Tuxedo on the Highway

The sky is darkening as he pulls the SUV to a stop behind her Prius. Switching on his flashers, he exits the vehicle and makes his way to the side of her car. _At least she managed to get it off to the side and out of traffic._

She stands on the side of the road staring at the flattened tire. A light misting rain that has begun to fall, causing the tendrils that fall loose of her elegant up-do to curl and cling to her neck. He's about to make a joke about how many forensic anthropologists it takes to change a tire when their eyes meet. "Bones," he says, snapping her back to the moment. He watches her shiver and slips out of his tuxedo jacket. Stepping over to her, he wraps the garment around her bare shoulders. "You're standing in the rain," he tells her.

She looks up at him, eyes shining. "I could have called a tow truck, Booth," she tells him.

He touches her face. "Yeah, and you could have just ridden with me in the first place." Instantly he realizes his mistake when she looks away - he had planned to bring Hannah to this event. Though the other woman hadn't been in his life for well over a month, he hadn't asked his partner if she wanted a lift.

He looks down at her, aching to lean down and kiss the pink of her lipstick off of her lips - to take one more gamble - but he holds back. _He knows that he's ready, but is she?_ Instead, he settles. Tossing his head toward the SUV, he smiles at her. "Go sit in the truck, Bones."

She opens her mouth as if to protest before turning and heading for the passenger door of the Sequoia. He watches until she is safely out of the weather before turning to the tire. Stooping down next to the wheel well, he removes his cufflinks and slips them into his pants pocket before rolling up his sleeves.

Walking to the driver's side door, he pulls the lever to pop the hatchback. He quickly locates the spare and the key he needs to remove the lug-nuts. Walking to the SUV, he grabs the jack.

He's just getting ready to unscrew the nuts when a loud clap of thunder fills the air and the sky opens up. He chuckles softly, shaking his head to himself. "Son of a bitch," he says through gritted teeth.

In the minutes it takes him to remove the flat, he's soaked through to the skin. As he's reaching for the spare, a stiff wind comes up and it slips from his fingers to slid down the small embankment. He sees her start to get out of the truck. "Stay in the car, Bones," he says sternly. She doesn't listen. _When has she ever listened?_

"Booth, you're getting soaked and..." A flash of lightening illuminates his face and stops her in her tracks.

He grabs her arms. "And now we're both wet," he growls at her. She flinches at his grip and struggles beneath his hands. "Can't you just let me protect you?" he complains.

"Booth," she whimpers, tears trailing over her cheeks.

He releases her and she takes a step back. He's appalled at himself for manhandling her. For not showing her the respect she deserves. He turns his back to her and takes a deep breath. One hand on his hip, he rubs at the back of his neck with the other. He swings back around just in time to hear her scream as she slips in the mud and falls.

He slides down beside her. "Oh, God, Bones," he says, a hand brushing the hair out of her face. "Are you okay?" His arms lend support as they close gingerly around her body.

"I'm fine," she says. "Really, Booth, it was stupid of me to..." A bold flash of lightning streaks across the sky and she sees the warmth in his eyes. The look he gives her is one that she hasn't seen in a long time. It's one that gives her hope. She stares at the way the fabric of his soaked shirt sticks to his chest and shoulders. She watches the way his breathing hitches just slightly. Taking a deep breath, she raises her eyes to his face. "I still don't believe in fate," she says, focusing on his lips.

"And I still do," he tells her honestly. His arms remain around her, but his hold eases as he steels himself for what he fears is coming. To protect them both.

She hurries ahead. "What I do believe in is us," she whispers. "Do you think we'll ever get our shot? Or have we really missed our moment?"

His heart slams against his ribs as it soars upward. "I don't know that there is just one moment, Bones," he says softly. "I want to believe we could have as many chances as we needed."

She nods slightly. Her hand comes to his cheek. "Booth," her lips are so close he can almost taste her sweetness. "Would you kiss me if I asked you to?"

"Are you asking me, Bones?" he husks on an uneven breath. He mirrors her touch, placing his hand on her cheek.

She echos the words that he once said to her. Words that resonate deep emotion now that she understands the full meaning of the promise behind them. The promise that she has this man's heart. "I just feel like this is going somewhere..."

Booth smirks. "Quit stealing my lines," he murmurs as his lips delicately pluck at hers. A gentle kiss quickly becomes heated as they cling to each other in the rain. Searching. Exploring. Drinking each other in. "Hey, Baby?" he asks, peppering her with kisses.

"Don't call me 'baby'," she hisses, even as she melts further into his embrace.

"It'll grow on you," he says, dipping to take her mouth in a heated kiss. "Just like Bones." He chuckles. "It's raining and we're both soaked. Let's get outta here." Standing, he helps her to her feet.

"Booth, this isn't good for your back," she protests when he lifts her into his arms.

His brow furrows. "Take my gun and shoot me," he says. "I want to hold you. And besides, I've got white knight syndrome, right?" Carrying her to the car, he deposits her in the passenger seat.

"What about my car?" she asks him.

"Call a tow," he says, the tips of his fingers trailing the neckline of her cocktail dress. "I'll call Cam and tell her you had car trouble."

"What will we do while we wait?" she asks.

Leaning in close, he breathes his next words against her mouth. "You ever make out in a car when you were a teenager?" he asks, giving her a hungry kiss.

Pulling away, he watches as she bats her eyelashes in wide-open owl fashion. Her lips are swollen from kisses, her cheeks stained a soft pink. "No," she confesses.

Flashing her a smile, he whispers, "Then I'd say you've got plenty of catching up to do..."


	4. Tuxedo for Sale

**A/N: **This idea is the brain child of chymom. Thanks for the suggestion, sweetie. I hope you enjoy it...

To my friends ceeray3, ProfeJMarie, samnickmike, lalaurala-bones and stephaniew for looking out for me and keeping me sane through my work stress. I love you all and I would be lost without your friendship and support. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

And for my fellow Aquarian and Twitter pal pippinim1 - Happy Birthday!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Bones._

Tuxedo for Sale

_Monday morning..._

"Bones," his voice booms as he walks into her office.

Brennan looks up from the folder she's reviewing. "Do we have a case?" she asks.

"No," he says with a sigh as he settles on her couch. He looks at her, the carefully prepared speech he had planned evaporating. "Umm, listen, Bones, I need a favor."

She places her pen down. "What is it, Booth?" she asks.

"The Bureau is having this fund raiser for the children's hospital and..."

She sighs. "I have charities that I donate to already, Booth."

He saw that coming. She'd had the same reaction when Angela asked her to sponsor the pig. "It's not that simple, Bones," he huffs in frustration. "It's a bachelor auction and I have to wear a stupid monkey suit."

"I don't see how I'm supposed to help you, Booth," she says with a shake of her head. "I don't see what harm it would do for you to participate. I'm sure you would bring in a very nice contribution for the hospital and with Hannah gone..."

He looks at her. _Could she really be that oblivious?_ He wants to yell at her. To tell her he's still that guy. That Hannah is gone because she never really had his heart. But he saves his breath. There's no need for that. "Maybe you're right," he says as he gets up. "Maybe it won't be so bad."

* * *

_Friday evening..._

He tugs at his cufflinks as he stands backstage. He feels ridiculous. The coordinator had been elated to find out about his break-up and begged him to get involved. He reminds himself that this is for charity. That it's so kids with cancer could get better treatment.

"Our next bachelor is Special Agent Seeley Booth. Seeley is as American as apple pie, his favorite dessert," earning a laugh at Booth's expense, the MC of the event continues, "A former Army Ranger, when he's not chasing down the bad guys he coaches his son's little league team and is an avid hockey fan."

Booth tries to smile as he wonders who wrote the bio. At least she didn't mention... "...and he's recently single, ladies. Let's help the big guy mend his broken heart." _Great. Just great._ Suddenly, he's very glad that Brennan didn't see fit to show her face tonight. The last thing he needed was to be embarrassed in front of his partner. The woman he still loved.

"Shall we start the bidding at $100?" she asks sweetly.

Hands shoot up. Booth raises his eyebrows. _At least he's popular, _he thinks to himself as the dollar figure quickly rises. When it hits $3,000, Booth notices someone standing in the back of the room on a cell phone. His gut tells him something is going on. Soon he finds out he's right.

The man calls out, "I have my client on the phone and she has authorized me to release $5,000 in cash for the date with Agent Booth." There are gasps and chuckles around the room and Booth's mouth drops open. "On the condition that he agree to meet with her now."

The MC looks at Booth expectantly. "It's your call, Seeley," she says. "The dates are supposed to be scheduled for mutually convenient evenings, but I will tell you that the amount is unprecedented."

He nodded and grabbed the microphone. "We accept," he calls out. The last thing he wanted was to be made to feel guilty over this. He steps off the stage and walks to the back of the room.

The guy is older and dressed in a high-end suit. "My client apologizes that she was unable to attend herself," he says to Booth. "She had another event this evening and sent me in her stead."

They walk out together and he opens the door to a waiting limo. They climb inside. For a few minutes, they ride in silence. Booth's curiosity gets the better of him. "Who'd you say you worked for?" he asks.

The man stares out the window at the city lights. "I didn't," he replies. "My clients pay me for their anonymity."

"Can you at least tell me where we are going?" he queries.

"The Four Seasons," he answers.

Booth tenses. He wasn't doing _that_, he didn't care how much money had been put out or if he had to pay it out of his retirement account. "Listen, buddy, I'm not..."

There is a laugh. "Relax, Agent Booth. This is not what you're thinking. There is a charity ball tonight and my client merely wants you as her date. Nothing more."

Booth takes in a deep breath and blows it out. The car pulls up to the curb and the door swings open. "How will I find this client of yours?"

"She'll find you," he responds. "Enjoy the rest of your evening."

Booth smoothes the palms of his hands over his pants and buttons his jacket as he exits the vehicle. He looks around and makes his way up to the door.

He sees a pair of feet tucked into elegant heels. Allowing his eyes to flow upwards, he discovers those feet are attached to very nice legs. Legs that disappear beneath the hemline of a black satin cocktail dress that clings like second skin to...

"Bones?" he breathes. "What are you...?"

She reaches for his arm and cocks her head toward the door. "Did you really think that I wouldn't rescue you, Booth?" she asks with a mischievous smile. "You'll recall I caved on the pig."

He takes her hand and tucks it into the crook of his elbow. He's still stunned into silence as they make their way toward the ballroom. He glances sideways at her.

"Angela suggested that I make you stew," she offers.

"Yeah?" he says with a smile. She was about as subtle as a 2x4. Everything about her suggested she was flirting. _Was it worth the risk if he was wrong? _He leans close. "You know, you didn't have to pay 5k for a date, Bones. You could've just asked me and gotten us both off the hook.

"Angela..." she begins as they stop in the hallway.

He backs her against the wall, getting dangerously close to her. "Angela doesn't know a damn thing," he whispers. His hand slides over her shoulder and down her arm to her hand. "Hey, Bones?"

Her blue eyes twinkle at him as their fingers entwine. "Yeah, Booth?"

With his other hand, he cups her cheek. "Unless you tell me not to, I'm going to kiss you now." He waits. Clinging to what hope he has left.

"Hey, Booth?" she whispers, her tone different from any other tone she's used with him.

He feels his heart thundering against his ribcage as he waits for what he's now sure will be a rejection. It's difficult to hide the sadness in his voice. He almost doesn't manage it. "Yeah, Bones?"

She stretches the last few inches to close the gap between them. "Not if I kiss you first..." Her lips brush over his softly and he kisses her back. He takes everything she gives him and returns it with 7 years of pent up passion.

When they pull apart, she straightens his tie and they smile contentedly at one another. His hand finds its spot on her back and he can't help but smile himself when she slips her arm around his waist.

"You hungry?" she asks.

"I could eat," he answers.

"Diner?" she asks, eager to go to one of _their _spots with him.

He brushes his lips over her temple. "Yeah," he agrees, flashing her a smile.

"Good," she says. "I think I'm finally ready to have a bite of your pie..."


	5. Tuxedo and the Ring

**A/N: **Tonight's update is a going to be a little bit different. For starters, it's Tuxedo Tuesday on Wednesday for samnickmike's birthday...but this will also be one of the only updates where Booth is decked out in a monkey suit for a reason having nothing to do with Brennan.

Happy Birthday, Christine! Thanks for the idea. Hope you like how this turned out!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Bones._

The Tuxedo and the Ring

He fusses with the candles on the table as he sets out the plates. This had to be perfect. Down to the last detail. Because he had done it once before and it hadn't worked out. But this was different. Hannah was different. This wasn't about waiting for the stick to turn blue. It was about wanting to spend the rest of his life with a woman - the woman - he loved.

He'd taken half the day off and bought a nice bottle of champagne and put clean sheets on the bed. He'd slaved cleaning the apartment and cooking dinner for her. But it was worth it. She wad worth it.

He sets out dinner. Her favorite. The recipe he had called her mother to get. And for dessert, apple pie. Everything looked perfect. It smelled amazing.

Tonight was going to be the first night of the rest of his life. He looks in the mirror and adjusts the tie on his tuxedo. He never had been able to tie a bowtie anywhere close to right. Usually that didn't matter because he had...

_No, Seeley. Not tonight. Don't think about her. Tonight is about Hannah._

He hears the door open. The sound of laughter fills the apartment. She isn't alone.

"You know, Temperance," her voice floats in from the living room. "You really ought to let me..."

"I didn't realize you had plans tonight," his partner's voice is filled with tension. "I'm just going to..."

Both women stare at him. Suddenly he feels incredibly stupid. He wishes the floor would open up and swallow him. "Hey, Bones," he says as he moves to kiss Hannah. _Things couldn't get anymore awkward._

Hannah smiles at him and turns her lips up to accept his greeting. "Babe, what's all this?" she asks. "I wasn't expecting..."

Brennan looks incredibly uncomfortable and once again attempts to excuse herself. "I'm going to..."

"That's probably a good idea..." Booth replies, at the same time Hannah says, "Don't be silly. Stay."

The couple look at each other and Brennan hurries toward the door. They are snapped out of the silence when they hear it slam shut, nearly rattling off of it's hinges.

Hannah sets her messenger bag down on the corner of the sofa. She cocks her head to the side. "What's really going on, Seeley?" she asks him.

He takes a deep breath. For a second, his eyes flick to the door. _You can do this, _he tells himself. "Hannah, I..."

She shakes her head. "No," she says softly.

"Hear me out," he says softly. "I love you. I want to be with you." He reaches out and takes her hand. reaching into his pocket, he withdraws the ring. "Hannah, you make me happy. I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy, too."

She looks down at her feet. "We had a good thing," she says. "We did. Until you ruined it with that." She pulls away, her eyes filling with tears. "I'm not that kind of girl, Seeley. I'm a nomad. A wanderer. I thought I could change. I thought that waking up in bed next to you was enough." She searches his eyes. "And what's worse is I know I'd only ever be second best."

"Hannah," he complains. His throat constricts at the implication.

She touches his face and smiles sadly. "I've seen the way the two of you look at each other," she says quietly. "Hell, I watched you stare at the door when she left just now." Standing on tiptoe, she gives him a bittersweet kiss. It's a kiss tinged with good-bye. "I'll be out as soon as I pack," she tells him.

"You don't have to..." he stammers. "I can stay with Jared..."

"Yeah," she says. "I really do. It's time, Seeley. It's time for us to stop pretending and move on."

_I need to move on..._ The words he said nearly a year ago haunt him as they ring in his own ears. He wonders how he'll get through her packing up. How he'll manage to not break down.

As she walks to what has been their bedroom, he stares after. He mentally kicks himself for what he's become. For the lies he's told himself and everything he's put all of them through.

He starts to sit down and realizes that would be a mistake. He walks over to the table and blows out the candles. He carries the plates to the kitchen and scrapes them into the trash. Taking the can to the table, he begins sweeping the flower petals he had carefully scattered into it.

He leans on his fists against the table. He wants to throw something. To hit something. To drown his sorrow in a nice glass of Johnnie Walker Black.

Hannah emerges from the bedroom with her bags. Meeting him in the middle of the living room, she presses the key into his palm. "It was amazing while it lasted," she whispers. "You're a good man, Seeley." When she's about to make her exit, she stops and leans her forehead against the doorframe. "I want you to promise me something," she says, a slight smile touching her lips.

He looks at her, trying to hold back emotion. He waits for her to finish.

"Promise you won't give up on Temperance," she says hopefully. "I think the two of you could have something really special. Something that I never would have been capable of giving you."

He snickers. "The two of you aren't that different, you know," he says ruefully. "Hard headed, career oriented."

"And crazy about you," she adds. "Go to her. Don't wait. Go. Make it work."

He walks across the room to her and gives her a hug. "Thanks, Hannah," he tells her.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, she smiles sincerely. "Good luck."

"You, too," he says.

When the door closes behind her, he tugs at the tie and heads for the liquor cabinet. Shrugging out of the jacket and tossing it carelessly over the back of the chair, he pours himself two fingers of the scotch and slams it back.

_Twice. Twice now he'd been rejected. Maybe he wasn't meant to be happy. To get married. To have children other than Parker._

He stews. The alcohol hitting his empty stomach quickly. Drinking doesn't erase the pain. It can't. But it dulls it.

By the third glass, he's rolling up his sleeves. By the fourth, he's laughing bitterly as he hears a knock on the door. He opens it. He opens it to see the last person he wants to see. The person that seems to have made it her mission to keep him from being happy.

"Booth," she says softly, her eyes filled with regret.

"What are you doing here, Bones?" he barks at her.

She pries the glass from his hand and helps him to the sofa. "Hannah called me, she..."

"She shouldn't have," he says plainly.

"She was worried about you," Brennan replies.

"She shouldn't be," he spits. "I'm no longer her problem." He stares into her face, the alcohol loosening his tongue, he adds, "She said she'd only ever be second best."

"You said she wasn't a consolation prize," Brennan answers, her brow furrowing.

"Yeah, well, I was wrong," he says. His eyes soften when he sees the way she looks at him. When he realizes the way she's been looking at him for months. _Why hadn't he noticed before? _"Apparently, I've never been more wrong in my life..."


	6. Tuxedo at the Premiere

**A/N: **Yay for Tuxedo Tuesday! My schedule has been chaotic, but I've been trying to keep this one on a fixed schedule for weekly updates. Unfortunately, I was sidelined with a migraine last night and I couldn't finish this one to my liking and get it posted. *frown* Sorry that this didn't go up yesterday evening as originally planned. Forgive me?

On the bright side, now it's Tuxedo Tuesday on Wednesday...with an ending that I couldn't have given you last night. I gotta say this one runs neck and neck with _Tuxedo on the Highway_ for the top slot as my series favorite. Hopefully, it's worthy of the additional wait...

A big thank-you to stephaniew and jenlovesbones for having my back, keeping me honest and making sure the meds weren't making me incoherent. And to ceeray3 for keeping Booth's tuxedo on until this was ready to go up.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Bones._

The Tuxedo at the Premiere

It's a Friday morning when Booth walks into the lab with two cups of coffee thinking he'll surprise his partner. He smiles as he passes Angela and nods at Cam as he heads to his partner's office. His brow furrows when he sees her light is off.

"Is there a case?" Cam asks. "I can get one of the interns to..."

Booth crosses his arms. His eyes narrow. "Where's Bones?" he asks the women.

Angela cocks her head to the side. "She's gone," the artist says plainly.

Cam shakes her head. "You don't know?" she asks with a hint of surprise.

"What do you mean 'gone'?" he asks, ignoring the pathologist completely and squaring off toe-to-toe with Brennan's best friend.

"Don't mess with me," she bites. "The baby has been keeping me up all night and I'm not in the mood to deal with you. Besides, Bren has been trying to ask you for over a week and you kept blowing her off."

"I don't know what that means," he says slowly.

"You know exactly what that means, Booth," Angela's mouth forms a firm line as she stares down the agent.

"Obviously, I don't," he growls back. "Or I wouldn't be asking."

"Booth," Angela warns.

Cam steps between them. "I hate to interrupt here, but I have a lab to run. Just tell the man what he needs to know, Angela."

"She's in LA for the movie premiere of _Bred in the Bone._" Angela concedes. "And rather than being her usual direct self, she tried to be subtle. She asked..."

"If I had plans tonight," he finishes. Suddenly, he feels like a jerk. There was a time he would have known immediately that she wanted something, needed something. Needed him. "How much time do I have?" he asks as he turns toward the door. "Can I still make it?"

Angela smirks knowingly. Maybe the old Booth was back...finally. She knew he'd come to his senses. "The jet's fueled and waiting for you," she calls out to him. "You should arrive just in time."

* * *

_Several hours later..._

He didn't want to know how Angela knew what size tux to have waiting for him. He just dressed in it quickly and hurried from the plane to the waiting car. "I assume you know where we're going," he says to the driver as he opens the back door of the dark sedan. The man merely nods, leaving Booth alone with his thoughts.

_What would he say to her? Should he apologize first? _His mind raced on with questions and he nervously pulls at the cufflinks on his sleeves. He watches the street signs and practically dives from the car as soon as it stops in front of the hotel. _Did he ask the driver to wait? Would Bones even want him there anymore?_

He rushes to the desk. "I'm looking for my partner," he says, thankful he remembered to slip his badge into the pocket of his suit coat. "Dr. Temperance Brennan."

The concierge tapped the keys efficiently, but not fast enough for Booth's liking. His eyes burn into the young man waiting for him to spout off the room number. Taken aback by the look he receives from the man towering over the counter, he gulps. "Dr. Brennan is in room 819..."

Before he can finish his sentence, Booth is sprinting toward the elevator bank. "Eighth floor, please," he tells the attendant. _Could the elevator move any more slowly?_

His eyes flick to the numbers on the doors. Stopping at 819, he takes a deep breath and knocks. Nothing. Again. "Come on, Bones," he says to the door. "I messed up, okay? I should have been with you the whole time, alright? I wish things had been different. I wish..." He feels a hand on his back and turns to see an elderly woman standing behind him.

"Not that those aren't pretty words, dear," she says to him, her green eyes sparkling with delight. "But I'm afraid they're wasted. The lady in that room left about 20 minutes ago..."

"Oh," he says, staring down at the shoes on his feet. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you..."

She smiles and cocks her head toward the elevator. "What are you waiting for? Go get her."

* * *

Brennan steps out of the limo, the heel of her strappy shoe poised on the red carpet as the waiting attendant offers her his hand. She's dressed in a full length gown that clings to her torso and swirls delicately around her feet. The single strap over her left shoulder is made of a sheer material that brushes deliciously against her bare skin. She had chosen the bold blue dress because Angela said it made her eyes pop. At the time, it had made her feel confident. The boost to her ego making her feel better about showing up to this event alone.

But now? Now she feels silly for believing that the power of an inanimate object could calm her nerves. Suddenly, the lights and cameras are a bit overwhelming.

"Dr. Brennan," the reporter greets her. "Jena Redding with Entertainment News. Do you have time for a few questions?"

She stops and smiles. Her publisher told her to answer questions. Said it would be good for book sales and increase revenue for the movie.

The young woman returns her smile. "Were you happy with the casting for Kathy and Andy? The studio put a great deal of effort into choosing the leads."

Brennan remembers Angela's squeal of delight when Ryan Reynolds was cast in the part of Andy. Though she felt he was a little young for the part, he was an attractive man with pleasant structuring. Rachel McAdams had been an interesting choice for Kathy. The quirky young actress said she had even taken a course in anthropology to prepare for the part. "Both actors are younger than the characters in my books; however, I hear that they have done very well and I look forward to seeing the film."

"Are you nervous?" she follows up.

Brennan shakes her head. She feels the tiny pin pricks as the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. "Why would I be?"

"No reason," she answers cheerfully. "So, you're all alone tonight? I think your fans expected you to have a date..."

Brennan looks down at the red carpet. It was a question she had anticipated, but not one that she had prepared for. "My personal life is..."

"Bones!" a familiar voice calls out to her.

Brennan's head perks up and pivots in the direction of the racket. She hears it again. The sweet sound of him calling out to her. Turning to the reporter with a brilliant smile, she says, "Excuse me," and hurries in his direction.

She smiles when she sees her partner, badge in hand, trying to get through the men posted along the entry. She reaches out her hand to him even as she shakes her head. "He's with me," she informs security.

Booth's eyes drift down over her dress. His hands brush softly over her arms as his eyes find hers. "Hi," he says sheepishly.

"Hi," she returns with uncharacteristic shyness.

He feels as though he's drowning as he looks into shining blue depths. His breath catches in his throat. He's sure she's never been more beautiful than she is tonight. "I'm sorry I didn't listen, Bones. I should have known," he says quietly.

Dragging her eyes away from his, she reaches up to adjust his bow tie. It's as though the hustle and bustle of all the fans and the cameras has melted away. It's like it's just them. Standing there. Together. "I was hoping you'd come," her answer is equally as soft.

Jena steps over to the pair and pushes the microphone toward Brennan. "Is this your partner?" she asks. "The one Agent Lister is based on?"

"Well, the first part is right," Booth stammers. "I'm her partner."

Brennan's eyes don't leave Booth's, her voice strong as she makes her confession. "So is the second part," she admits. Laying her hand on his chest, she adds words meant only for his ears that instead are recorded for posterity. "Tonight wouldn't have been the same without the real Andy Lister beside me."

He cups her cheek. He sees everything in her eyes. He sees something real and true. He sees the future he didn't think he could have. And he realizes he was lost without her. Lost without everything she's meant to him over the years. "Bones," his voice is rough with emotion.

"It's you, Booth," she says with a smile that dazzles him. "It's always been you..."

He sweeps her into his arms. His lips find hers with the flair of old Hollywood as flashbulbs flicker around them. It's tender and publicly appropriate, but it leaves them both breathless. In the background, a voice comes that causes them both to laugh and makes Booth kiss her all over again.

"There you have it folks," the woman reports into her microphone. "Dr. Temperance Brennan has finally admitted that her long time partner, Special Agent Seeley Booth, is the real life inspiration behind our favorite fictional hero, Andy Lister." As the camera pans to the kissing couple, she adds, "Just remember you heard it here on the red carpet first..."


	7. Blood on the Tuxedo

**A/N: **So, last week was an epic failure when it came to getting an update completed. Those who know me know that I am facing massive deadlines at work and have under a lot of stress. The next few weeks may be rough, but I am going to do my best to bring you updates for this on what I call #TuxedoTuesday over on Twitter. I sincerely appreciate your continued patience.

A huge thank you to all my friends who continue to offer love and support; especially stephaniew and lalaurala-bones who reminded me to take care of myself first and worry about writing later. I'm incredibly blessed to have you in my life.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Bones._

Blood on the Tuxedo

Seeley Booth watches his partner collapse. Dropping the champagne flutes, he barely notices the sound of shattering glass or the splash of liquid against his pants legs as he draws his gun. People around him scatter as he levels it at the man standing over his partner. "I'm only going to say this once," he growls. "Drop. Your. Weapon."

The gun falls from the would-be assassin's hand and clatters along the hardwood floor. He glances down at the crumpled body of Temperance Brennan before turning back to the FBI agent. "It wasn't supposed to be like this," the man says. "She was..."

As the security guards take over, Booth drops to his knees beside Brennan. Nothing matters anymore. Nothing but the woman he loves. "Bones," he rasps as he pulls off his tuxedo jacket and presses it to the wound on her shoulder. "Hang in there, Bones," he tells her. "Hang in there, baby."

Her eyes flutter as they settle on him. She tries to raise her hand. Tries to touch his face. Reaching out, he brings her hand to his jaw and he holds it there. "Booth," she whispers weakly. "I..."

Tears fill his eyes as he cradles her. "Shh," he says. "Everything's gonna be alright, okay?" Her eyes drift closed and he feels her hand go limp as her head rolls to the side. "No," he cries out. The tears fall freely. He touches her face. "Stay with me, Bones. Stay with me."

* * *

_Three hours earlier..._

He watches her as she puts on her make-up. Leaning closer to the mirror, she applies mascara and he admires the curve of her back as it flares into her hip. He loves the way the lacy scraps of lingerie cling to her body and looks forward to this night being over.

Brennan slips into the rich purple cocktail dress and turns to Booth to zip her up. He does so, placing a kiss to the spot where her neck meets her shoulder. A hand on the closet doorframe, she slips into her pumps.

Worry lines cross his face as he follows her to the dresser. He stands behind her as she looks into the mirror. He watches her fiddle with the dangly earrings, slipping them into her lobes. "You don't have to do this," he reminds her.

She turns to face him. Her eyes hold a quiet sadness and fear he hasn't seen in quite some time. "Booth," she says, a hand moving to his chest. "It's the only way to get him out of hiding," she tells him. "I'm tired of being a prisoner in our apartment or the lab."

He runs his hands over her bare arms. "I just need for you to be safe," he answers. "It's not worth the risk."

Leaning up, she seals her lips to his confidently. "You'll be right next to me," she says. WIth a smile, she teasingly adjusts the bow tie at his throat. "I'll be perfectly safe."

* * *

In the parking lot, Booth stalks behind the gurney as they wheel Brennan out. He calls Cam. He doesn't want to be the one to drop this news on Angela Montenegro-Hodgins. Snapping the phone shut, he continues to follow the medics as they get into the vehicle.

"You'll have to meet us at the hospital," the paramedic says as he begins the shut Booth out of the ambulance. He flashes his badge, but young man shakes his head. "I'm sorry, but no."

Booth rakes his hand through his hair. "Listen, kid," he barks sternly. "You ever been in love?" He yanks at his tie, the damn thing feels like a noose. He shouldn't have let her do this. He should have found another way. Getting a blank stare, he continues. "That woman in there? She's more than just my partner, she's my world." He feels like he's going to choke on the emotion. "I need to be with her. I'm supposed to protect her..."

The other medic reaches out and grabs Booth's hand. "Hurry up, Booth," he says as he shoots his companion a dirty look. "Adam's new. He doesn't know any better." As the sirens begin to blare, he chuckles. "You're usually the one we're working on."

Booth grabs Brennan's hand, his eyes focusing on her face. "I know," he responds. "And I should be tonight, Joe."

Joe laughs. "Yeah?" he asks. "You know she'd kick your ass for saying that if she was conscious, right?"

* * *

_An hour earlier..._

He has to do something - anything - to relieve the tension. He sees it eating at her. He can feel it in her shoulders without even touching her. He smiles slightly at her and takes her hand. "Whatdoya say, Bones? How about a dance?"

The corner of her mouth twitches up and she entwines their fingers. They walk out on the dance floor and she presses as close as is publicly decent. He feels her shiver as his hand glides from the bare skin of her back and over the silky fabric of her dress to rest in his spot. "He may not even be here tonight," he whispers, trying to soothe her.

He sees the tears registering in her eyes before she tucks her head into the crook of his neck. "He is," she breathes. "I can feel him watching me."

He takes a deep breath, his eyes searching the room for a face he's only barely seen. _Since when was Bones the one with the gut feelings?_ "You've been spending too much time with me," he teases her softly.

Pulling back, she gazes into his coffee colored eyes. "I don't know what that means," she utters.

For a brief flicker, he forgets the danger, he forgets everyone around them. Chuckling softly, he leans in and plucks at her lips. "I love you," he tells her. Seeing the confusion in her eyes, he shakes his head and explains. "Gut feelings are supposed to be my territory..."

* * *

He sits perched on the edge of one of the stiff waiting room chairs. His hands cup the back of his neck as he leans forward, the nurse's words echoing through his head. _Surgery. No idea how long it will take. Doctor will find you. Waiting room._

As he waits for their friends, he finally notices his sodden trouser legs. He finally notices her blood all over his hands and the front of his shirt. God only knows where his tuxedo jacket ended up.

The tie hangs loosely around his neck and his sleeves are rolled up. His cufflinks clink with the change in his pocket as he begins to pace. He was gonna have somebody's ass when he found out how the gun made it through the security checkpoints, but for now, that doesn't matter. None of it matters. Tonight he's not a cop or a g-man. Tonight he's a man in love with a woman who was fighting for her life.

Cam approaches him and he almost snarls as she sneaks up on him. "How you doing, big man?" she asks quietly.

He embraces her, crushing the pathologist to his chest. "She's been in surgery for a while," he says. "It just feels like it's been so long..."

Prying herself from Booth's embrace, she looks at her watch. "Booth, it's only been a little more than an hour since you called me..."

He shakes his head. "It was a through-and-through. Shouldn't we have heard something? Anything?"

There's a desperation in his eyes. Naked love for the wounded anthropologist mingles with his fear. Cam places a steading hand on his arm and gives him a comforting smile. "Do you want me to ask?" she prods. "I'm not sure they'll tell me anything, but if it'll make you feel better..."

"Where is she?" Angela asks as she bursts into the room, her husband hot on her heels. Her tone softens when she sees the pain on Booth's face.

A figure wearing scrubs approaches them. "Family of Temperance Brennan?" With the attention of the group is focused on him, he looks from Booth to Hodgins. "I'm assuming one of you is Special Agent Seeley Booth?"

Booth nods. "That's me," he answers before firing off questions. "How is she? Is she okay? Can I see her?"

"Mr. Booth," he says with a sigh. "There's something I need to tell you. Can we...?"

Booth's face falls. Cam grabs his arm. "Anything you need to say, you can..." she begins.

"Actually, I can't. This is privileged information," the man says, pulling off his scrub cap.

Booth shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He brushes Cam's hand away and begins to follow the doctor. "It'll be okay," he mutters to their friends. "It's got to be.

* * *

Brennan blinks, her eyes opening for the first time after surgery. She sees the cool green of the hospital room, feels the weight of the lightweight blanket and sheet over her. The gown is scratchy against her skin. She's reminded why she hates hospitals.

But then her gaze settles on Booth. His head rests on the on the edge of the bed beside her. The crisp white of his shirt contrasts against the blue of the blanket. She smiles, her fingers slipping into his hair. She watches the childlike way his fingers clench around the black strip of his tie.

"Bones," he says, returning her smile as he takes her hand.

"Did you get him?" she asks.

"Yeah," he tells her. "We did. Listen, Bones, we need to talk."

Her brow furrows. "What happened? Where was the bullet? Is there bone damage?" she attempts to sit up and he moves to sit beside her on the bed. "Give me my chart, Booth."

He looks at their hands. Using his thumb, he swipes gentle circles over the back of hers. "Nothing like that," he laughs. "You're fine. Both of you."

Her mouth falls open as her eyes and her hands fall to her still flat belly. "Are we? No..."

He rests his hands over hers. "A baby, Bones," he beams at her. "We're having a baby!"


	8. Tuxedo at the Masquerade

**A/N: **Hello? Is anybody out there? Is this thing on? I've been a bad girl when it comes to sticking to regularly scheduled updates...but things may finally be starting to even out at work where I actually have the time and energy to start writing more frequently again. Don't you hate how working seems to impact playtime? I know I do. Here's to hoping I'm getting back on track...

A big thank you to each of you who continue to encourage and support me, especially:

stephaniew, who has quickly become one of my dearest friends.

lalaurala-bones, my Aussie sister who's always willing to bounce the idea ball.

ceeray3, for changing her icon with every new chapter.

This owe the idea for this little brain child to thevaliumsofa. It would have been a lot more fitting had it actually been released the week the idea hit, but life got in the way of that one. I hope the delay doesn't keep anyone from enjoying it!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Bones._

The Tuxedo at the Masquerade

Special Agent Seeley Booth stands at the bar in the corner of the ballroom with a glass of single malt scotch in his hand. In spite of the masks, it hadn't been difficult to find the Jeffersonian team. Angela's belly had been a give away.

However, the person he was missing - the woman he was waiting to see - wasn't there. His partner had yet to make an appearance. And there was a strong possibility that she wouldn't. The artist had shattered his hopes with that piece of news.

This was a glorified costume party. Though his mask is far tamer than the majority of the group, he feels silly. He wants to take it off. The thin Zorro-like strip of fabric over his eyes does little to conceal his identity. Still, he waits. He waits in the hopes that she'll arrive and everything will be okay.

* * *

Temperance Brennan steps from the cab. As her glittering heel hits the pavement, she wonders if she's made the right decision. The mermaid style evening gown is not her usual style, but then again she doesn't want to be herself tonight. She needs to be someone else. Someone who will catch his eye.

Angela had called her Cinderella. Her best friend had attempted to explain the fairy tale, but the story did not at all seem to fit the present situation. For one, Booth was not a prince. Secondly, arriving at nearly 10 PM, she certainly wasn't leaving the party at midnight. Not without a damn good reason anyway.

It had been the artist's idea that she show up "fashionably late". Now, as she enters the ballroom, she wonders if it was a good idea. This isn't rational. She isn't being honest.

* * *

Something draws his attention. A woman in a long blue gown. She pauses at the top of the staircase and it's as though her eyes search the room. His eyes follow her movements as she begins her descent. There's something oddly familiar about her. Something that he can't quite put his finger on from this distance.

His eyes narrow, honing in on his target. The dress clings to her curves until it reaches the knee, where it flares out, swirling around her feet. Her steps are careful, precise. He tries to pry his eyes away. He's waiting for his partner, yet he can't tear his eyes from the woman gliding down the stairs.

She's mesmerizing. Her face is hidden from view by a mask painted in rich blues, golds and greens. It's trimmed with peacock feathers. The only thing left exposed is her jawline and the rosy pink of her mouth. For a moment, he thinks it's her. That his prayers have been answered.

But then he sees it. The glossy bounce of golden curls over her bare shoulders. He squeezes his eyes shut. He's really got to get over the whole blonde thing. Blondes were nothing but trouble. He'd learned that lesson the hard way. Twice.

* * *

She sees him, standing by the bar with drink in hand. He looks pensive. His brow furrowing as he stares at the amber colored liquid in his glass. She feels a light blush stain her cheeks beneath the ridiculous mask when he looks at her.

She has to focus to make it down the stairs. She finally understands the idea of moths fluttering in her belly. The feeling is not unpleasant. She starts to move toward her friends before changing direction and heading to the bar. "A glass of champagne, please," she says to the attendant.

She notices his eyes are still on her. She smiles politely, but turns casually to the person next to her and asks the time. She wonders when he'll notice. If he'll figure out that it's her. But for now she'll have to wait.

* * *

As the evening draws on, he remains intrigued by the mystery woman. The way she moves is oddly like his partner and yet his mind keeps telling him it isn't Bones. It's that he wants it to be her.

She begins to move to the french doors that lead out to the garden. He finds he's eager to be close to her. Eager to talk to her to confirm the facts. Eager to set his gut at ease.

So, he follows her. He follows her out into the night and down a path lit by tea candles in paper sacks. Follows her into the chill of the early spring air.

He stops short when she lowers herself onto a bench. Listens as the glass in her hand scrapes as she places it on the concrete beside her. Watches as she smoothes her hands over the skirt of her gown. He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket but ignores it as he prepares his interrogation.

* * *

She takes a deep breath and turns in his direction. She watches as he advances in long strides. Listens to the sound of his shoes against the gravel. She opens her mouth, but he begins talking.

"Have we met?" he asks, tilting his head.

With a smile she nods, excited at the idea that she may have fooled her people smart partner.

His features relax, but only slightly, as he watches the way her lips curl upward. He'll take the bait. He'll let her think she's won. "Playing hard to get?"

She stands up and faces him. She shakes her head no. In the pale moonlight, her fair skin takes on an etherial glow. What he can't figure out is the hair.

He taps his foot, pretending to be impatient. "I see if I want answers I'll have to stop asking yes or no questions," he tells her, his lips drawing tightly together. He takes another step closer, closing the gap between them. Reaching out, he takes her hand. "I should probably warn you," he says lightly, "I'm in love with my partner."

She can't hide the tiny gasp that escapes her. Her eyes flutter closed at the admission and her chin drops to her chest.

He tilts her face up to his. "You see," he adds, reaching to remove her mask. "I feel like this is going somewhere..."

She reaches up and removes the wig, shaking her auburn hair down over her shoulders. He can't resist running his fingers through the silky strands. He leans his mouth down to hers. He pulls her close when she shivers and feels her arms wind beneath his tuxedo jacket.

The kiss is slow and sweet. It's a new beginning. The start of something. Something meaningful and lasting. It's new adventure. The first chapter in the rest of their lives. Together.


	9. Tuxedo on the Town

**A/N: **This one is going to be a quick fluffy little bite. A bunch of you asked for it, so here is the follow-up to Tuxedo at the Premiere.

Many, many thanks to ceeray3 for dressing Booth up, MFluder14 for being my research assistant and stephaniew for helping me tie up my loose ends.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Bones._

The Tuxedo on the Town

Booth rubs his hand on the leg of his tuxedo pants. He feels like a teenager on his first date with the prom queen. The thought makes him smile because Temperance Brennan was far from the prom queen and would hate the comparison. His eyes are on the screen when he feels her fingers brush over his skin.

Knife sharp senses on full alert, his gaze flies to hers as the hair on his neck stands on end. She smiles and he grins back at her. He wonders why he hadn't thought to reach for her hand. To stroke his thumb over her knuckles the way he was doing right at that moment.

Yeah. Definitely a teenager. A lot of things were about to start feeling like the first time. All. Over. Again. And he was glad.

* * *

When the lights come up, he looks at her. He realizes that he didn't see the second half of the movie. He was too focused on her touch. Too focused on the feeling of her hand in his. The perfect way their fingers curled together. He sighs and looks up from their joined hands into the brilliant blue of her eyes. "What's next, Bones?"

She gives him the look. The one where her eyes twinkle with mischief and her lips purse.

"Let's get outta here," he tells her.

"How, Booth?" she questions. "What about all the reporters?"

"Oh, I'm pretty sure we can get around that," he tells her. He drags her toward the front of the theater, in the opposite direction of the crowd. He prepares himself for what he's worried will be an alarm and pushes the door open.

They step out into the night laughing. He pulls her into his arms as they stumble in the alleyway. He backs her against the wall, his mouth lowering to hers in a heated kiss. It's more passionate than it is tender. And, as his tongue skims over her lips hungry and demanding, it definitely isn't publicly appropriate.

She hums against his lips, her fingers finding his hair. It's over too quickly for her liking, but instead of protesting, she straightens his tie. She repeats his question back to him. "What's next, Booth?"

"Dinner?" he asks. "I'm sure we can find a diner," he adds taking her hand.

Her eyes shining, she looks up at him. "Pie?"

* * *

_In front of the theater..._

"This is Jena Redding coming to you live following the premiere of _Bred in the Bone_," the reporter says into her microphone. "We've been waiting for author Temperance Brennan to come out so we could get her reaction to the film." She eyes the people filing out of the theater. "That seems to be the big mystery right now..." she pauses, taking a final look. "No one has seen the good doctor or her handsome partner."

They begin to pack up, heading to the van parked in the alley next to the theater. As they open the back, she notices a couple walking in the opposite direction. She recognizes the dress. "Good for her," she says softly. "Good for her..."

* * *

_Back in Washington, DC..._

Angela Montenegro-Hodgins sits with her feet up. She squeals gleefully as she watches the replay over again on the big screen TV.

"_Tonight wouldn't have been the same without the real Andy Lister beside me." _Brennan's voice says clearly.

She watches, yet again, as Booth cups Brennan's cheek. _"Bones..."_

"_It's you, Booth. It's always been you..."_

With a sigh, she watches him sweep Brennan into his arms. His lips find hers in that publicly appropriate style of old Hollywood. Flashbulbs flicker around them.

"_There you have it folks," _the reporter says. _"Dr. Temperance Brennan has finally admitted that her long time partner, Special Agent Seeley Booth, is the real life inspiration behind our favorite fictional hero, Andy Lister."_

Turning it off, she reaches for her cell phone and sends a quick message. "Sweetie, I want ALL the details."

* * *

He stabs at his pie thoughtfully. "So," he says. "How are we gonna handle this after the weekend?"

She pops a french fry into her mouth. "I don't know what that means," she answers.

He gestures between the two of them. "You and me?" he says. "Are we together now?"

She pulls out her evening bag and shuffles through it for cash. Pulling a few bills, she drops them on the table and stands up. She flips her head toward the door. "I'm a little tired," she says softly. "Can we head back to the hotel?"

He forces a smile, worried that this is yet another rejection. Suddenly he doubts every move he's made. He wonders if flying cross country was a mistake. If she's having doubts. He drops his napkin on the table. "Sure, Bones," he says smoothly. "Anything you need..."

* * *

In the elevator, he looks at her. He tries to gauge her feelings. To figure out where things went wrong. When the door pings, he's still lost in thought.

"Are you coming?" she asks him, reaching a hand out to him.

His fingers touch hers and he feels as though an electrical current passes through him. He loves this woman. Perhaps, in some ways, he's loved her from the moment they met. He's not sure he can handle this. Not sure he can take it if she rejects him again. But then he remembers the trying song. And he knows he'll do just that: _keep on tryin'._

The elevator doors have hardly closed before she's pressed her mouth to his. His heart soars. He hears her keycard in the lock. "Bones," he says between kisses. "Baby, are you sure about this?"

**A/N: **Yes, I am just that evil. Considering doing an "M" rated spin-off...thoughts?


	10. Tuxedo on the Stage

**A/N:** Bonus! It's #TuxedoTuesday on Monday!

What do you get when you mix an undercover assignment, Booth stripping out of a tux and Cherry Pie? A very special birthday wish...Happy Birthday, jenlovesbones!

Jena, it's been a pleasure getting to know you and I hope this makes you laugh. I just couldn't come up with a way to work in the #PoleDancing4Jesus tag...but I did manage to squeeze in a different trademark phrase. ;)

Special thanks to stephaniew for proofreading and saving me from myself when my muse tried to write this one backwards and sideways...and to MFLuder14 for being my research assistant.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Bones..._it'd be a whole lot more colorful if I did.

Tuxedo on the Stage

Booth paces the hallway in front of Cullen's office. When the older man opens the door her immediately snaps to attention with military precision. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Listen, Booth, I'm just gonna cut to the chase," the deputy director states as he steps behind his desk. "I need you for an undercover assignment. We've been surveilling a club on suspicion of drugs and prostitution."

Booth nods, listening intently. "Okay, what's the cover?"

Cullen rubs his brow. He knows that Booth won't take this well. "The agent previously assigned broke his leg and..."

"With all due respect, sir," Booth begins. "I thought we were cutting right to the chase."

Cullen folds his hands. "It's the Hanger Club, Agent Booth. You'll be going in as the new stripper..."

* * *

_The Jeffersonian..._

"Come on, Bren," Angela says, taking her friend's hand and pulling her from the office. "I need a thrill."

"I fail to see how male strippers would be a thrill," Brennan says, rolling her eyes. "Though I do recall Booth enjoying questioning Miss Lust in the Newcomb case."

"Was that the stripper?" the artist asks, her hand slipping to her swollen belly.

"Yes," Brennan responds. "Booth received a lap dance. It appeared to be quite stimulating."

"I'm sure it was, sweetie," Angela replies."Let's get out of here before your niece decides to make her arrival."

* * *

_Backstage at the Hanger Club..._

Booth looks around the room. "You've got to be kidding me..." he mutters as he takes in a pair of assless chaps and a cowboy hat. There is a work vest and tear-away blue jeans laying beside a hard hat, another equally unappealing option. "What is this? The Village People's closet?"

He walks over to a costume rack and flips through the items hanging there. Finally, he finds it. A costume that would provide sufficient cover. One that would serve his purpose better than the others.

"Geez, man," he hears a voice coming from behind him. "I though Joe said you had experience. Quit acting like such a newbie."

Booth turns to see a younger man with long hair standing behind him. He tries to play it off. Tries to act cool. Tries not to look... "What do you mean?" he asks.

"The James Bond thing doesn't work. Show some skin. The ladies'll go crazy," he says as he pads over to the corner and grabs a bottle of water."

_Yeah. That solidifies things. _Booth grabs the tux from the rack and hurries into it, slinging the jacket over his shoulder. It felt different than the other's he'd worn in the past. Then he realizes why. Like the construction worker's pants, this tux is rip away. And he's got to hope he can get his man...before he's left in nothing but his birthday suit.

* * *

Booth scans the crowd. He waits as he's announced.

"Did somebody call for some fresh meat? Here he is...let's hear it for Miles Long!"

He strolls onto the stage, a song other than the one he's expecting hits the speakers. He curses silently under his breath and makes his way to a chair strategically placed in the center of the aisle. He raises his eyebrow in what he hopes comes across as a seductive motion before casting the jacket to the floor and bobbing his head. "She's my cherry pie. Cool drink of water such a sweet surprise. Taste so good make a grown man cry." He licks his lips and waggles his eyebrows. "Sweet cherry pie, yeah. Wow!"

_Oh. God. Brennan and Angela. In the front row. What the hell?_

"Oh. My. God." Angela says, her hand flying up to cover her mouth.

"What is it, Ange? Is it the baby? Should I...?" Brennan, distracted by her friend, hasn't noticed.

"Tell me that isn't Booth," she breathes.

Brennan's eyes go wide. "There has got to be a logical explanation for this..."

Booth swivels his hips, dancing to the music. "Well, swingin' on the front porch, swingin' on the lawn. Swingin' where we want 'cause there ain't nobody home. Swingin' to the left and swingin' to the right. I think about baseball, swing all night, yeah. Yeah, yeah." _Baseball. Yeah. That's it. Think about baseball. Don't think about your partner staring at your..._

He gets as close to her as he dares. He can't believe he's gyrating in her face. But he shocks everyone - including himself - when he rips the shirt from his back and licking his fingers slides them down his chest and slides on his knees across the stage. "So I mixed up the batter and she licked the beater."

As the music continues, he leans toward her. Mouthing the word undercover. Hoping she's paying attention and won't blow it.

"She's my cherry pie. Cool drink of water such a sweet surprise. Tastes so good make a grown man cry. Sweet cherry pie, oh yeah.."

_Get her out of your head, Booth. You're on assignment. _Why tonight? Why'd she have to be here tonight? He can't focus. Not with his partner and her pregnant best friend sitting so close. _Mmm. Pie. Bones and pie._

"She's my cherry pie. Put a smile on your face ten miles wide. Looks so good bring a tear to your eye. Sweet cherry pie, yeah." _It was true. Bones could put a smile ten miles wide on his face. And kissing her was as sweet as cherry pie._

He's getting into it now. With the lyrics _Swingin' to the drums_, he pounds the air. On _swingin' to guitar_, his leg becomes the instrument. The crowd cheers.

"I scream, you scream we all scream for her," he holds his hand up to his ear, encouraging the audience. "Don't even try 'cause you can't ignore her."

He makes his ab muscles ripple as he continues to dance. He feels like a clown. "She's my cherry pie. Cool drink of water such a sweet surprise. Tastes so good make a grown man cry. Sweet cherry pie, oh yeah."

"Take it all off, baby!" a drunk woman to his right yells. Reaching out, she tears away his pants.

He feels exposed. His instincts tell him to cover himself. To hide what he doesn't want everyone to see. But he knows he can't. Knows that his cover will be blown. His eyes search with the precision of years of sniper training. He wiggles and flexes as the music continues. "She's my cherry pie. Put a smile on your face ten miles wide. Looks so good bring a tear to your eye. Sweet cherry pie, yeah. Pie, yeah."

He sees his target. He tries to keep dancing as he watches the man move to a table

"I'm a trained professional..." _I'm a trained professional. _He forgets the music. the lyric spurring him into action, he yells, "Freeze! FBI!" The perp makes it halfway to the door before Booth has him on the ground.

"Nice thong!" Angela yelps, squeeing at the sight. Turning to Brennan she asks, "So, where do you think he hid the handcuffs?"

* * *

Booth emerges in jeans and a t-shirt to see Brennan sitting on the edge of the stage waiting for him. She smiles and heads in his direction, meeting him half way. "Angela didn't stick around, huh?" he asks her.

"She said she was tired. I'm surprised she wanted to go out this late in the first place given her advanced stage of pregnancy," the anthropologist observes. "She said she wanted a thrill."

Booth shakes his head. "Give you a lift home, there, Bones?" he questions, silently praying that she doesn't ask any questions.

"Angela said I should tell you that you've got a very nice package in your monkey hammock," she offers, her brow furrowing in confusion.

Booth chuckles, "That's what she said."

"I don't know what that means..." The words tumble out of her mouth as she comes to a stop.

He shakes her off. "It's _banana_ hammock," he instructs.

As they begin walking again, she makes another observation. "You know, you would have been a lot more natural if you weren't such a prude."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he fires back.

"Stripping can be very good exercise," she replies. "Your movements were stiff when they should have been fluid given your physical condition, Booth."

"Is that a challenge, Bones?" he says, flashing her his charm smile. "Because I'd be more than willing to give you a private show. Maybe you could teach me a few moves..."


	11. Tuxedo in the Hotel Room

**A/N: **It's #TuxedoTuesday on Wednesday...

A few housekeeping matters...

First, due to my schedule and stress level, a friend has suggested that I consider making this bi-weekly or monthly to maximize the quality of the updates while minimizing the strain on myself. I haven't made a final decision yet, but I know a bunch of you enjoy this one and I hope you'll stick with me no matter what I decide.

Secondly, I've been asked a bunch of times when Brennan was going to get Booth out of the tux. I have to admit I'm more than little leery of doing this and I have concerns about what it's going to do to the series...but I'm caving this time and we'll see how it goes. Let's call it a high "T" bordering on "M"...I don't want to change the rating and separating it doesn't feel right. If you aren't into smut, skip this one. But if you are, here's a little dose of it...enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Bones._

The Tuxedo in the Hotel Room

_Previously in __Tuxedo on the Town__..._

"_Are you coming?" she asks him, reaching a hand out to him._

_His fingers touch hers and he feels as though an electrical current passes through him. He loves this woman. Perhaps, in some ways, he's loved her from the moment they met. He's not sure he can handle this. Not sure he can take it if she rejects him again. But then he remembers the trying song. And he knows he'll do just that: keep on tryin'._

_The elevator doors have hardly closed before she's pressed her mouth to his. His heart soars. He hears her keycard in the lock. "Bones," he says between kisses. "Baby, are you sure about this?"_

* * *

She'd opened more than just the door to him. She'd opened her heart. The big, beautiful heart _he_ always knew was there. The one that it had only taken 14 months of time apart and several failed relationships by both of them for _her_ to realize she had.

Now, as he lays tangled with her in the sheets of her luxury hotel room, he looks back. Looks back and considers everything they went through to get _here._ He remembers when he thought all hope of ever being with her was gone. Thinks how there was a chance he could never have felt the way he feels now.

He smiles as she curls closer beneath the protective wing of his arm. He breaths in the scent of lemongrass shampoo that lingers in her hair, feels her fingers flex against the wall of his chest. And all he can think about are the events of the previous evening...

* * *

_4 hours earlier..._

She pulls him into the room and shuts the door, pressing him against it. Her mouth slips against his, her fingers brushing over the tiny stud buttons of his tuxedo shirt.

His hands caress her shoulders, his fingers climb up her neck and are about to sink into her hair when he stops. "Bones," he whispers. "I want you."

Blue eyes sparkle as she tilts her face up to his. She feels her knees weaken at what she sees on his face and grips the lapels of his jacket. "Yes, Booth," she says, her lips touching his again.

He takes a stumbling step toward her, pulling her fully into his arms. "Wait," he says. "What?"

Confusion floods her features. Reaching up, she toys with his bow tie. "You asked me a question earlier," she reminds him, giving the tie a little tug. She plucks it apart, separating the ends and waits. "My answer is yes."

It's his turn to be confused. His hands land on her waist and stroke the line down to her hip, fingers digging into the fabric of her dress. "You're gonna have to help me out here, Bones," he tells her, as he grips her. "Can't think with the big brain right now..."

"Are you referring to the fact that..."

He kisses her, cutting off her clinical observation. His tongue swirls against hers and he holds on, trying to befuddle her the way she has him. He can't fight back the smile as he sees her swollen lips. "Yes to what?"

She pulls one end of the tie, dragging it around his neck. "There's no tequila," she whispers.

He draws a ragged breath as the scrap of black fabric slips from her fingertips and flutters toward the floor. "Uh-huh," he agrees.

She flicks the first two buttons on the shirt loose. "And there isn't anyone else," she continues as she opens two more.

"You're killing me," he says, his forehead falling against hers. Sensing her response, he adds, "The point, Bones. Get to the point."

"I think this is going somewhere," she says, mirroring the words he'd said to her all those years ago. "Somewhere that's still gonna be there when we get back to DC." She tilts her head down, studying the remaining stud buttons. "I'm still not sure about 30..."

He crushes his lips over hers. That's all the answer he needs. That she's willing to try. He'll spend the rest of his life convincing her. Righting the wrong of the past and showing her that there really could never be anyone else.

She pulls the shirt tails loose and dispatches with both his jacket and shirt at once. She steps away from him and kicks out of her heels. Her fingers move to the side zipper on her gown but he stops her with words.

"I want to undress you," he says, pulling off his undershirt before taking her back into his arms. In truth, he always has wanted to. Why should she have all the fun? She'd stripped him more than once without any kind of payoff. Tonight? Tonight it was his turn. He takes hold of the tiny catch between his fingers before kissing the corner of her mouth as he begins to lower it. He hears her breath catch. He inches it down slowly, so slowly he feels his heart might burst in the anticipation.

Finally, he pushes the single strap off of her shoulder and the heavy gown pools at her feet. She stands in front of him and his mouth goes dry. He feels like a teenager and sure as hell hopes he doesn't perform like one. "This isn't gonna be crappy sex, you know," he says awkwardly.

"It wouldn't be crappy sex with me anyway," she says matter-of-factly.

_That's my girl_, he thinks to himself. She was always so sure of herself when it came to things she felt she was good at. It was one of the things that drove him crazy...and made him crazy about her.

She steps out of the dress and reaches for his belt. He shuffles out of his shoes and leans in to kiss her, slowing her progress. Stepping out of his pants, he reaches for the pins in her hair, eager to feel the spun-silk of her hair around his fingers. He plucks each one out as he peppers her face and throat with kisses. The moan that escapes when his tongue finds the little hollow beneath her ear drives him mad.

She runs her hands over his back, feels the hard heat of his body and longs to be beneath him. Taking his hand in hers, she moves toward the bedroom. Once inside, she kneels on the edge of the king-sized bed with it's rich linens.

He switches on the lamp and the soft light washes over her delicate skin. He coaxes her down onto her back, blazing a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses over her body. He touches her everywhere - her clavicle, the inside of her elbow, her ankles and kneecaps. He whispers kisses over her thighs and the secret parts of her body he longs to further explore as he takes down her panties and strips off her bra.

She soaks it all in. Feels things she can't name - things she's never experienced with other men - as he kisses her, strokes her with just the tips of his fingertips. The skin of his palm is rough as it grazes over her sensitive breasts. She knows she could never get enough.

He feels her fingers echoing his soft touch. Shivers as her nails lightly scrape up the back of his neck. When he stretches out naked over her, feels her leg move around his hip inviting him in, he knows he could never get enough. Not of this. Not of her.

Like so much of their partnership, it's about give and take. It's about having skills that compliment and moving in tandem. This is just a step further. It's a give and take of pleasure. Of satisfaction. Two competitive people setting out to make the other feel something - feel _everything_.

And he does. He feels the way she surrounds him, matching his every stroke. The way she clings to him. The way her lips slide over his lips, over his skin. The way he pushes her until she breaks, shattering in his arms.

And she does. She feels the steady rhythm he's set, the beat of his heart. Feels the way he holds himself back just enough to keep from crushing and oppressing. The way relief rushes through him when she pulls him closer and closer still. The way his mouth is firm, lips slightly chapped, as he kisses her - kisses her everywhere he can reach. The way he collapses, spent, over top of her with heavy breath. The way she hopes he'll stay.

* * *

_Present..._

He feels her breathing change and watches her stir against his chest. She shifts, resting her chin on the back of her hand as she looks up at him with sleepy eyes. "Hi," he whispers, sweeping her hair back behind her ear.

"You're still here," she says.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he asks, pulling her in for a kiss.

"I've dreamt of this a few times," she confesses.

"Still here," he mumbles, kissing her again. And he would be. For as long as she let him. Hopefully, 30 years. Or 40. Or 50.


	12. Tuxedo in the Dressing Room

**A/N: **Surprise! It's #TuxedoTuesday!

I want to thank all of you for bearing with me. Things have been tough at work and I haven't been able to devote the attention to writing that I've wanted to. Things will remain sporadic for a while longer, but I do plan to finish my two on-going stories - _Promise in the Good Bye_ and _Crossing Lines _- as well as providing occasional updates for this collection.

This one is short and sweet (a drabble really) but there was something about it that's just different and it really flowed for me. Complaints about length should be directed to ceeray3 because Cyndi (thanks for the read-through!) said short was okay. ;)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Bones._

Tuxedo in the Dressing Room

With a growl, he steps out of the trousers and flings them onto the padded chair in the corner. He shrugs out of the jacket with a scowl and throws it carelessly around the hanger. He yanks the bow tie at his throat loose and frowns.

This was the third monkey suit he'd tried on. Double breasted. Single breasted. Cummerbund. Nothing looked right. Nothing felt right. And _if_ he was going to do this, it had to _be _ right. Perfect. She deserved no less.

Making this call had not been an easy decision. Given her views on this particular topic, he never thought they'd get _here._ That _this _ would become an issue. And now? Now he's struggling to make it work. Struggling to reach out and grab a different outcome. Struggling to latch on to 30 or 40 or 50 years and hang on to it - on to her - until he draws his last breath.

He stands in front of the three-way mirror. He looks at the grey that frosts his temples. He sees the little lines at the corner of his eyes. He's not getting any younger. After Hannah, he'd considered that love was perhaps a young man's gamble. That it just wasn't in the cards for him to ever have forever. That maybe just having Bones could be enough - whether it was for 6 months or a year or ten.

And then there was last night. He'd been in their closet hanging up his suit coat and he'd found the dress. He didn't know when she'd gotten it or how long it had been there, but the little blue number with it's sweetheart neckline and flowing skirt had appeared in his dreams. And in his dreams she said 'yes'. It wasn't flowery or romantic. She didn't squeal with delight or show any of the normal female emotions, she had just simply said yes. She said yes and the color of her eyes, the way they sparkled with unshed moisture, had taken his breath away. And he just _knew_.

It wasn't the bullshit way he thought he knew outside the Hoover building. It wasn't the way he thought he knew asking Hannah was the right move. It was that deep feeling he got in his gut. The one that was the case breaker. The one that sealed things and wrapped them up tight. The one she teased him about and never quite understood. That was it. That was when he just _knew_. And this time, unlike all the others, he _knows_ that if there was ever going to be a right time it's now.

He slips a crisp tuxedo shirt on over his undershirt. He works the tiny stud buttons into their holes. He steps into the flat front pants and zips them up. Next is a vest in gold tones - colors that remind him of the daffodil bulbs she carefully planted in front of the house. This tie, unlike the other three, slips through his fingers and forms a perfect knot that requires minimal adjustment. And the jacket. The jacket is a perfect fit. The single breasted style accentuates the width of his shoulders and makes him feel like James Bond.

Reaching for the jewelry store bag, he pulls out the velvet box and drops to his knee in front of the mirror. Even in the low-light of the dressing room, the stones glitter in triplicate. A smile stretches across his face.

Finally. Everything is perfect. The ring. The tux. The woman. And hopefully, later tonight, the moment.


	13. Tuxedo in the Garden

**A/N: ** Those of you who follow me on Twitter may have noticed that I hate Tuesdays because of my Tuesday morning meetings...but I love the Tuesdays when I have the time to put Booth in a tux... *sigh* Yay for #TuxedoTuesdays like today!

A big thank you to all of my readers. I couldn't ask for a more supportive bunch and I love each and every one of you. You all are amazing!

Special thanks to **stephaniew** for the read-through and **SmilingSarahJean** for the picnic prompt.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Bones._

The Tuxedo in the Garden

Seeley Booth sighs and gives the night watchman a polite smile as he ducks into the lab. He imagines she'll be right where he left her hours ago and the thought brings a grin to his face even as he shakes his head. He looks up, about to call her name when he stops for a moment and watches her on the platform.

Temperance Brennan leans over a skeleton laid out on an autopsy table. It's nothing new. It's something he's seen hundreds of times. But tonight? Tonight, she's wearing an evening gown beneath her lab coat and her hair is twisted in an elegant chignon. Her designer heels click against the flooring as she moves. He takes her in. Takes in her beauty - from the graceful line of her neck to the curve of her hip. Takes in her dedication - the tireless way she approaches every case with the desire to return victims to their families. Takes in the way it makes him feel just to look at her, even on a night like this where nothing went according to plan.

Her brow furrows and she lets out a soft noise of disgust. He takes this as his cue and slips his card through the reader, making his way up the stairs to join her.

At the _beep_, her eyes meet his. "Booth, what are you...?" she peels off her gloves. "I thought I was meeting you there..."

His arms slip around her waist. "I thought you were, too..." he chuckles. His mouth brushes lightly over hers and her hands sneak up the wall of his chest and adjust his bow tie. "This is why I wanted to pick you up," he tells her.

She tilts her head, her eyes hopeful. "We could go now," she offers, a sad smile playing across her face.

He shakes his head. "I gave up the table an hour ago," he replies, his hands curling around hers. With a pluck of her lips, he pulls her toward the steps. "But I've got the next best thing..."

* * *

Moonlight splashes over the flowers and grass in silvery fingers, casting the Jeffersonian gardens in a beautiful glow. The stars twinkle brightly in the night sky and, surprisingly, even in the midst of the bustling city night there is quiet. He takes her hand, guiding her to the spot he picked out. The perfect place for an evening picnic.

She laughs softly, stopping him and hopping slightly as she removes her shoes. The ground is slightly damp beneath her toes and she smiles at the sensation.

The sheer joy on her face nearly stops his heart. She was brilliant. Quite possibly one of the most brilliant people in the world. And yet, the more time he spent with her, the more he realized that - at least in some ways - she was still capable of approaching things with child-like wonder. Needing to share in her moment he pulls off his own shoes, shoving the brightly striped socks he'd worn with the tux into the pocket of his jacket

He wonders if she'll always have this power over him. The ability to make his heart race like a teenager's. To make him feel and see things in ways he never expected. To light his world with a single smile when she'd broken their plans without meaning to. He offers up a silent prayer of thanks that she's in his life, that they were able to beat the odds and find their way together.

Stopping at the blanket, he offers a hand to help ease her down. He joins her, watching as her eyes flit to the tea-light candles in the shining in their white paper bags.

"When did you...?" she begins.

The charm smile reaches his eyes as he takes her hand. "I had help," he confesses.

"Angela," she sighs softly.

Booth chuckles, "Actually it was Charlie." Silently, he adds to himself, _Angela never would have been able to keep her mouth shut._ He pulls silverware from a bag and hands her a set as he divides the salad between two plates. Pointing it away from her, he pops the cork on a bottle of champagne and grabs two flutes from the basket beside him. "To us, Bones..." he says softly.

"To us," she replies, clinking her glass against his. "Thank you, Booth. This is lovely." She smoothes her skirt. "I'm sorry I got caught up in the case and missed the reservation."

He blinks. He can't believe she apologized. She rarely apologized for work interfering with plans. "It's alright," he answers.

She stabs at her salad with her fork. She knows she should say something further, but the words don't come. They still aren't there when he hands her the still warm container of eggplant parmesan. She picks at it. In spite of having sat, it's very good. But she isn't hungry. She's too busy thinking. Too busy contemplating.

He takes a bite of his own meal and looks at her. Watches the way she chews. Sees the distance in her eyes and the way she holds herself. "Whatcha thinking about, Bones?" he asks, unsure of if he really wants to know the answer.

She shakes her head and brushes her bangs out of her eyes with the backs of her fingers. "It's nothing," she sighs.

He sets his plate aside and scoots over to sit beside her. Taking her hand, he puts his arm around her. "Except I know that look. I know it isn't nothing."

She lets out a breath and turns her crystal blue eyes up to his. "It's just that I seem to have a habit of hammering things up..."

"Screwing," he laughs. "Screwing things up."

She pouts. "I'm being serious, Booth," she tells him. "Like tonight. I should have been at the restaurant. With you."

"And I should have just cancelled or rescheduled," he responds. She opens her mouth and he silences her, pressing a finger to her lips. "I know you, baby. I know how focused you get. This isn't my first time at the rodeo."

"But..." she starts. _What if he changed his mind? What if she started to irritate him with her inability to follow in?_ "I just..."

He leans in and steals a kiss from her lips. It's slow and soft and tender. He pulls her to him, placing gentle pressure on the back of her neck until she melts. Like the candy bar Parker had left on the dashboard earlier in the week she slides into him, becoming a gooey mess. He smiles against her mouth, lapping teasingly at the corners with his tongue. He waits. Holding her. Thrilling her. Tempting her with unspoken promises. Showing her all the words she doesn't need to find. "But nothing. You're you and I don't want you to change that. Not for me. Not for anybody."

He reaches for the basket and pulls out one more box. It's small and he's sure the last thing he's expecting. "Close your eyes, Bones," he whispers.

She does, painted lashes fluttering down over her cheeks.

He opens his prize and takes a tiny piece in hand. Biting his lip, he raises it in front of her. "Open them," he says quickly.

She does, shaking her head, a smile touching her lips just before they wrap around the fork he holds out for her. Tiramisu. It's elegant and delicious, the flavors tickling her taste buds and making her moan. She kisses him, allowing him to savor hints of the pastry from her lips. "What about you?" she asks, her brow furrowing.

He grins at her, plucking her mouth in a sweet kiss. "Oh, I'm pretty sure dessert is waiting for me at home...or she will be if I can pry her away from the lab..."


	14. Tuxedo on the Dance Floor

**A/N: **Happy #TuxedoTuesday!

This is just short one...but my buddy ceeray3 seemed to be in special need of a little tuxedo-flavored cheer so I whipped this up during a staff meeting. Still feeling slightly naughty for it... Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Bones._

The Tuxedo on the Dance Floor

It's a celebration. A real black tie affair. And if you'd asked him as little as hours ago, he'd have said he still wasn't sure it was happening. Not to him. Not to them.

But he's in a monkey suit. He has been for hours. It's a custom cut. Not one of those cheap rentals he's used to fooling with. Only the best this go round.

And she's in a dress. It's nothing new, she wears dresses - formal and otherwise all the time. But it's significant. The floor-length gown clings to her curves and dips low on her back. Who knew there was any way she could possibly look more elegant than she did every day?

The gentle strains of music float through the room and tickle his ears. He smiles when he looks at her, thinking of all they've been through to get here. All the ways they failed each other, saved each other, muddling through heartbreak and celebrating survival.

The pull of needing to be next to her is gravitational. He can't wait any longer. He adjusts the cufflinks at his wrists and tugs at the tie wringing his neck. Walking over to her, he strokes his fingertips down her bare arm.

"Booth," she says, a tiny lilt to her voice as she looks up at him with shining eyes. "This is..."

He twirls her into his arms suddenly, leaving her slightly breathless. Turning to her companion, he says, "Pardon the interruption." With a grin, he sweeps her onto the floor and presses his lips to hers in a tantalizing kiss.

"That was..." she begins.

He kisses her again, his mouth firm over hers as a chuckle begins to bubble within his chest. " I wanna dance with my wife," he tells her.

"But..." she hedges.

He laughs. An arm around her waist, he skims a hand over her cheek to cup her neck. He revels in the newness, surprised at how differently it feels on an emotional level to kiss her today than it did yesterday. "Mmm," he hums against her lips. "I love you, Mrs. Booth."

Placing her hands on his shoulders, she leans away. Her mouth falls open slightly. "We discussed my feelings about taking your last name, Booth..."

"Come on, Bones," he pouts. "Just for today?" He flashes her a grin. It's a smile he's reserved just for her. One that he's been using for years to communicate with her - whether she's realized it or not.

She looks at the clock and looks at his face. He's irresistible...and he knows it. "Only two hours left," she murmurs softly.

His eyes twinkle. "All the more reason you should give me my way," he whispers, tilting his forehead against hers.

The corner of her mouth tilts up slightly. "I accept your logic," she agrees.

His lips slant over hers as he takes her hand and sways along to the song playing in the background. He's amazed. Amazed that she's here. Amazed that they're together. Amazed that she's wearing his ring when she said she didn't believe in marriage.

She's amazed. Amazed at her personal growth. Amazed that she said yes. Amazed that she's staring into the eyes of the man who is now her husband.

The words Hodgins said to her inside the car years ago come back - _Faith, baby, what you have is faith..._

And she does. Faith in Booth. Faith in their relationship. Faith in his 30 years. Or 40. Or 50.

**A/N:** I didn't want to spill it at the beginning, but I think this could be a follow up to _Tuxedo in the Dressing Room_. I have a really great (and I think original!) idea for the actual wedding...keep your eyes peeled for an installment to be titled _The Tuxedo and the Bride_!


	15. Tuxedo on the Platform

**A/N: **#TuxedoTuesday on Wednesday...

It's been said that Cinderella is proof that the right pair of shoes can change your life. This series has sort of been that pair of shoes for me. Sharing it with you and reading your lovely reviews has made me smile through some really difficult times. Sadly, like all good things, it must come to an end.

**The Bad News: **I think it's time for me to wrap this up so I can go back to my on-going fics.

**The Good News: **I'm in negotiations with another writer (read: BEGGING her) to take over the series with its #TuxedoTuesday hashtag and, if she does, it's my sincere hope that you will show her the same love you have shown me. I've had a sneak peek of one of her ideas and it is smoking hot!

Without further ado other than the usual disclaimer, I give you the final chapter of _A Tuxedo For Temperance_...

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Bones._

Tuxedo on the Platform

I like to think I'm a good man. Sure, I've done things that I'm not proud of, but that's true for just about everybody. While even on my best day I am still perhaps more sinner than I am saint, I do know this: I'm not the same man I was when I met her and I never want to be him again.

I used to be a gambler. I think there's a little bit of a gambler in all of us. But I've discovered that there's only one thing worth taking a chance on: love.

She's so easy to love that it's almost like breathing. Sure, she's stubborn and infuriating. Yes, there have been times when I've given up.

But she's so damn worth it. So completely and undeniably worth it. And I'm gonna prove it. I'm going to prove to Dr. Temperance Brennan - _my_ Bones - that we have the kind of love that will go the distance.

How, you ask? By making the biggest gamble of my life. By putting myself on the line.

She's been my partner for 15 years. Well, really it's closer to 16, but that really doesn't matter. What matters is that she's grown and changed. What hasn't changed is that she's still...Bones.

I never thought I'd live to see this day. Not the day Temperance Brennan would agree to get married and certainly not the day she would actually tie the knot. But I was there when she said yes and I'm watching for her to come through the doors at the back of the room. I'm hoping she'll show up this time. That I won't be left standing here in a monkey suit by myself. Again.

Okay, so the first time wasn't really her fault. It wasn't like she planned for her matron of honor to go into labor _on_ our wedding day. It wasn't like she intended to leave me standing in the front of the church. Waiting. Expecting the worst. Afraid. Scared she'd run off on some dig and that I'd go home to a note.

_Gee, Booth. Just couldn't do it. I'm in Zimbabwe. Please get your shit outta the house by the time I get back. Thanks. Bones._

Yeah, no. That wasn't her. Not anymore. Thank, God.

It really shouldn't have surprised me that Angela pulled everything together in less than 48 hours. She and Hodgins felt terrible for ruining things the first go round. They'd even sprung for a new gown - under serious protest from Bones - since I'd seen the original at the hospital.

That thought in particular makes me grin and I pull on at the cuffs of my tailored shirt. My baby's never been one to believe in superstition. She didn't think it should matter. Why waste a perfectly good dress? But our friends know me better than that. They know that traditions matter to me. And I'm glad she finally caved.

I look up at the steel crossbeams and all the glass around me. Though where I'm standing wouldn't have been my first choice, the significance isn't lost on me. This building, this place, is as an important part of our relationship - our love story - as each of the squints. It's oddly fitting that we should be married here, in Bones' version of a cathedral with her alter behind us.

I watch as she walks up the platform steps on Max's arm. She's as stunning today as I've ever seen her. It's hard for me to pry my eyes off of her but, as the music stops and everyone takes their seats, I know that I have to or I'll forget my vows.

I hear a throat clear and cast my eyes down to the group wondering who's set Caroline off this time. Wondering if she's running interference because Sully's suddenly decided to show up and attempt to steal the bride. Worried that some rookie agent is coming to inform us there's a case. On instinct, I reach for the gun that I know isn't there today and curse silently. Nothing and no one will ruin this day. Not this time.

I watch as Sweets slips what from my vantage point I can see is a wad of cash into her hand and can't help but smile at them. Silly kid. 'Puckish' prosecutor. Like taking candy from a baby. I'm not sure when he'll learn. If he'll learn. But I know she's never gonna quit.

My eyes back on Bones, I see that she caught them, too. She smiles at me - gives me that look that I have come to cherish - and I know that everything will be alright. That whether we make it 30 or 40 or 50 years is truly irrelevant. What matters is this:

What's between us is ours. The love we share will last as long as we want it to, as long as we are willing to put in the effort.

Because we're partners. Partners in work. Partners in friendship. And, now, partners in life.


	16. Special Announcement

**Many of you asked me to do this and it's time for that very special announcement. I'm happy to say that the author who will be taking over this series is:**

**ceeray3**

**Please join me in supporting Cyndi as she continues our beloved #TuxedoTuesday tradition here and on Twitter. As her beta, I've had the privilege of previewing several chapters and I think you're gonna love her!**

**Much thanks for all the love you have shown me! To quote a movie that means a lot to me, "I'll be seeing you..."**

**Sophia**


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